


My Poetry

by GrumbotNGrianLover



Category: Original Creation, Original Work, Poetry - Fandom, poems - Fandom
Genre: Inspired by Poetry, Other, Poems, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumbotNGrianLover/pseuds/GrumbotNGrianLover
Summary: This is just going to be a collection of various poems I have made in the past. Some I even used for class. I'll just post them as I locate and/or make them.
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Rules of the Fic

**Author's Note:**

> This is just for me, but if you all enjoy them, then yay.

Note: I will take haiku requests. I can write a haiku about anything, so give me five things to write haikus about and I'll make some for you. 

If you want a sonnet, I don't take specific requests for those. I guess you could give a genre and then maybe I'd write one, but for the most part I do those for fun. Haikus are probably the only style I'll do requests for UNLESS you give me a type of poem style that's outside my comfort zone. I've not really written limericks before, and any other poem style, you'd have to give me a run down for.

This first chapter isn't even really a chapter OR a poem. This is just me setting up to allow me to post my poems that I have hidden away. I figured it is time to let people enjoy them.


	2. Systematic Patterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for bonus points in a class

One, Two, Three. Do, Re, Mi.  
Fe, Fi, Fo. Stop, Stay, Go.

The locomotion of life,  
Stoplights, Signs, Streets, and Paths.  
We drive down a road of strife.  
Our infinitesimal bodies filled with wrath.

There's simple patterns everywhere we look.  
Be it the composition of atoms, the structure of buildings,  
The layout of a city, or the pages in a book.  
We must travel through life, as history repeats, with strife unyielding.

One, Two, Three.  
The counting as years go by.  
How there were wars so that we could be free.  
The years, they definitely fly.

Do, Re, Mi.  
The patterns in tones that make a song.  
The entertainment that's so widely diverse, and people hum like a bee.  
Some of the music is short, and some of the music is long.

Fe, Fi, Fo.  
The stories we tell to kids,  
Of the boy who climbed a beanstalk, or what lurks in the shadows, our old foe.  
Those simple imaginations in the box, once closed, but we opened the lid.

Stop, Stay, Go.  
The stoplight on the street of life.  
Those moments when you feel like death is near. The moments you feel low,  
Are the moments we learn to treasure, and we learn to not put ourselves under a knife.

The systematic patterns to life are simple.  
The body has cells, that grow, replace themselves and die.  
A baby goes from child to teen to adult, though life is fickle,  
As not all can reach the age of senior, but in the end, all souls will fly.

As I speak to you, do you understand?  
You and me. We are part of a pattern.  
You are who has always been by my side, so take my hand.  
I will help you down the road, and I won't let you burn.

Put down the knife. Forget your strife.  
Come with me, and let us be free.


	3. Speak to One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for bonus points as well

Once I was told,  
By my mom that what I should do  
Is to try and move forward  
With a clear vision of the future.

She told me one day,  
While we were sitting around doing nothing  
That I needed a vision for where my life  
Was going to go.

I had no clue what I wanted to do,  
In a world where life sucked  
And that I wanted to escape  
Into a world of my creation.

I wanted security,  
Money, and a safe and loving home.  
I wanted the freedom  
To do as I pleased whenever I chose.

But my mom put on the pressure,  
To make a plan,  
To have kids,  
and to make sure our family stays afloat.

No one seems to notice  
That I want to cry out.  
I am not stable  
With this crushing stress.

I speak about my problems  
And get no response about what to do.  
My mom doesn't know,  
Because she's worried about bigger things.

I break away and try  
To make friends who are never  
Nearby. Through the Internet I meet  
People who are just like me.

My friends who role-play,  
Who have some of their own little problems,  
Who I listen to because I care too much  
And who will 'listen' to me.

We chat about interests,  
And we talk about time.  
I help them through their problems,  
And they 'help' me through mine.

But in reality, they can't do much  
When I am down in the darkness of my mind.  
I'd speak to my mom, she loves me, but she doesn't understand  
That who I am is more than what I am.

I am Demisexual.  
I am broken.  
I don't speak when something  
Needs to be spoken.

So when I do speak, it isn't to a person.  
It's to my wall, to a computer screen, to my mind.  
Who needs to speak to someone, when something is wrong?  
Not I, for when I speak, it is to No One.


	4. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a fandom based poem

I stand at the top of the world in the dawn of a new day.  
You climb up behind.  
I express my vision of something new, something just for me and you.  
You express your worry.

My wings are burnt black from those actions before,  
Your wings white and pure.  
Pushed aside in the past, but standing here before you now,  
You beg me to come down.

But I stand here and gesture to the growing world.  
You look so confused.  
I express my joy that the world and its wonders exist.  
You happen to agree.

But with the End coming, I ask for your help.  
You want to say no.  
The world of ours makes us happy, help me save it.  
You run away.

I get a drink.  
You find a strange book and come back to me.  
I blabber and cry.  
You tell me you want to help save the world.

I run to you,  
You, who was forced away from here.  
The fire makes me cry,  
But you contacted me and told me to meet you.

I run to you.  
You call to me.  
We make a plan.  
We save the day.

We trade our places.  
We trade faces,  
To save each other  
From deadly fate.

And in the end, we make a toast.  
To us, and the world, Angel!  
Let’s take the omens for what they are!  
They are, Good Omens


	5. The Language of Love and Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was used in a Creative Writing Class, so I'll be posting the original and the Revised version.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The original poem worked like this, the first line of each stanza were the same. The flowers, and then what those flowers meant.

_**Original** _

Sakura Blossoms, Blue Hyacinth, Yellow Rose, and Forget-me-not!   
The language of flowers can be all we have got to express our feelings,   
And sometimes all the different meanings can leave my head reeling.   
All of these things are just a lingering thought.

A time of renewal and optimism, sincerity, an expression of friendship and joy, and faithful love and memories   
What would you think of me if I presented these to you?   
Would you accept me and all that I do?   
Would you choose to stay with me, like I wish to stay with you, for centuries?

Sakura Blossoms, Blue Hyacinth, Yellow Rose, and Forget-me-not.   
Knowing you, you probably would leave me for someone who is more pretty to look at.   
I have a good heart, but I know. I know I’m not pretty. I know I am not, and that I am a fat cat.   
And I know you would leave me like most abandon a lingering thought.

Yellow Carnation, Cyclamen, Orange Lily, and Aconite!   
You present to me your dislike of my presence.   
If you could, you would keep me out of the heavens,   
And know my heart is burnt out like a light.

Rejection, Separation, Disdain, and Hatred.   
All you want me to do is to leave you alone!   
Fine! It is not me who will have to atone!   
And know that my emotions are now faded.

Yellow Carnation, Cyclamen, Orange Lily, and Aconite!   
So here I go, forgetting you ever existed!   
You’ve left our story so--so twisted!   
So I am leaving, and never coming back! I’ll be out of your ‘oh so precious’ sight.

**_Revised_ **

Sakura Blossoms, Blue Hyacinth, Yellow Rose, and Forget-me-not!  
The language of flowers can be all   
We have got to express our feelings,  
And sometimes all the different   
Meanings can leave my head reeling.  
All of these things are just a lingering thought.

A time of renewal and optimism, sincerity, an expression of friendship and joy, and faithful love and memories  
What would you think of me   
If I presented these to you?  
Would you accept   
Me and all that I do?  
Would you choose to stay with me,   
Like I wish to stay with you, for centuries?

Sakura Blossoms, Blue Hyacinth, Yellow Rose, and Forget-me-not.  
Knowing you, you probably would leave  
Me for someone who is more pretty to look at.  
I have a good heart, but I know you, and I know   
I am not pretty. I’m not, and I’m a fat cat.  
And I know you would leave me like   
Most abandon a lingering thought.

So imagine my surprise when I try to extend  
An invitation to be my friend.  
And unsurprisingly,  
You decide to reject me.

Yellow Carnation, Cyclamen, Orange Lily, and Aconite!  
You present to me your   
Dislike of my presence.  
If you could, you would keep   
Me out of the heavens,  
And know my heart is   
Burnt out like a light.

Rejection, Seperation, Disdain, and Hatred.  
All you want me to   
Do is to leave you alone!  
Fine! It is not me who   
Will have to atone!  
And know that my   
Emotions are now faded.

Yellow Carnation, Cyclamen, Orange Lily, and Aconite!  
So here I go, forgetting   
You ever existed!  
You’ve left our story   
So--so twisted!  
So I am leaving, and never coming back!   
I’ll be out of your ‘oh so precious’ sight.

The language of flowers is easy to misunderstand.  
But you won’t care for me, so I’ll say you are damned.  
I just wanted someone to be by my side.  
Now I have to go somewhere to recover and hide.


	6. Kobold's Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is something I made for a DND session, and decided it was poem enough to end up in here.

Oh swing high, oh swing low~   
We've travelled down our long long road~   
This story's long, old and true~   
Now there's one thing left to do~

The story's done, the book has closed~   
It's been lots of fun, but it's time to go~

A new chapter's turning~ a new book to read~  
Let's play this story one more time~ 

Before we travel down the line~

The story's done, the book has closed~   
It's been lots of fun, but it's time to go~

The next story is on you~   
My adventure's done, but yours is new~   
Put down my book, and open yours~   
It's time for you to drift away~  
It's time to move out to your starting day~ 

For now, you sleep, a story told~  
You'll find that those you meet, are worth more than gold~   
Friendship, stories, relationships~   
You'll build new ones~ you'll have your own~ mine is done~


	7. Unnamed Poem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one day randomly, like, several months ago.

Part of me wants to delete   
All these messages and notes   
To the people I care about,  
Though we barely know each other.

Not bug them with my problems  
Or the demons in my head.   
I've grown so familiar   
With the words that the demons say. 

My past, which was great,   
Has become my nightmare.  
The happy times, mixed  
With fights and shouts. My  
Half-siblings, my brother, my mom,  
My dad, the family I know.

These demons they twist  
The times I was happy  
Into something which makes  
My stomach churn.  
It leaves me yearning,  
I want something new.

I got it in the form of people online.  
I discovered role-play  
And fandoms galore, and shipping  
Of course, the things that I found.  
The bring me into fandoms,  
Both dead and alive.

I discover Youtubers whom I enjoy  
Gamers, Minecraft, Scripted work, Improve.

And for a while, I'm whole.  
I'm happy and content with  
These interactions and videos  
That makes me feel light.

But the demons are back,  
They are twisting my view.  
I want to be happy,  
To smile at these words on a screen.

I have friends, people who listen,  
But in the end, the demons, they shout.  
It's so hard to tune them out.

So I'm putting my troubles  
Down on a page,  
In hope that the demons will lessen,  
So that I can enjoy sending  
A message and smiling when words  
Are sent back. 

The demons say they won't care,  
If I'm gone in the future.  
I want to tell them they are wrong,  
And that I have friends who care,  
But when looking at the past, I see  
That none of them reach out to me.

I'm always the one reaching out to them.  
Except for a case of someone  
I don't want to talk to  
From my Highschool who hurt  
My feelings in ways I didn't realize  
Until I had friends whom faces  
I never see, treat me so much better  
Than they did in person.

And now I have online  
friends who do reach out,  
But the demons in my  
Mind, they always shout.

I want them to stop.  
I want to be happy,  
But there lies the problem.  
Because I'm not.

They still whisper.  
I can't kill them.  
So I'm not happy,  
Except for the moments I share  
With voice and with text,  
In the form of a story  
Made by two people playing characters.

These are the things that make them quiet  
The people online, who are like me,  
Looking for a friend, or someone to RP.

So if they never know about me  
And my struggles it is fine.  
I'll still have a friend somewhere online.


	8. Like a Moth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This poem was me venting frustrations about my dad who is an asshole.

_**Version 1** _

I have love I give, and love I’ve lost  
But leaving you has no cost.

Flitter, Flutter, Flap, and Fall⎯  
I flitter from left to right.  
My heart flutters in my chest.  
My wings flap all night,  
So I begin to fall without my rest.

For I am a Moth,  
But it's not easy to tell.  
I follow the light’s beckoning call.  
But I am lost in this spiraling hell,  
Stuck by the light, then displayed on a wall.

If it were up to you, I would be pinned and preserved.  
Prettily displayed in a small case that’s hung on a wall of a study,  
You’ve brought out the scissors and snipped a piece of cloth,  
You’ve broken my trust, left my heart so bloody.  
You could have turned me into a goth.

But I am stronger than you.  
I’m not backing down without a fight.  
So just sit back, and let this be observed.  
Don’t you know that I am right?  
Know that justice will be served.

You are a lightbulb.  
You burned us and you yell.  
You don’t stop what you do.  
You didn’t pick us up when we fell.  
So say hi when the past’s ghosts go boo.

A moth gets drawn in to the light  
They pair up and get buddy buddy.  
But you are a light that burns and culls.  
And what you do is you make life cruddy.  
And being around you causes life to dull.

You burn me and my mom’s life away,  
You took everything. You take everything. You steal.  
You left our home without any light.  
The time that we don’t have we need to heal.  
So we have to substitute the dull for the bright.

Burn all the time, the moth fluttering by the light.  
We flitter, we flutter, we flap, and we fly.  
We continue though life, powering on with our might,  
And we know that it is okay to cry.  
We continue to flap until our hearts take flight.

We don’t need you to continue to live.  
Dad, you abusive light, we moths just can’t forgive.


	9. The Stories We Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sonnet about stories and tales that people tell. About the history the world has to share.

Stare at the moon with the sky in clear view,  
A black blanket in cities with no stars,  
We hide under covers with not a clue,  
Telling tales alone, but family’s not far.

The ghost, she sings her sad and lonely song.  
A river’s cliff, or the rolling cold moor.  
A vampire’s keep, a belltower’s ring -- Ding Dong.  
Night has set, freezing your bones to the core.

These stories we tell from dusk until dawn.  
These histories we shared fade from memory,  
Skittish about our pasts like a small fawn.  
Our rough edges need care with emery.

The diamonds under coal’s worth more than gold.  
All we ever really know is what we are told.


End file.
